Scripture Philippians 2:1-11
If, then, there is any comfort in Christ, any consolation from love, any partnership in the Spirit, any tender affection and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he existed in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be grasped,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
assuming human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a human,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.
Therefore God exalted him even more highly
and gave him the name
that is above every other name,
so that at the name given to Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
Sermon
It is the first day of the week, the week that will bring Passover to Jerusalem. From the east side of town Jesus enters, riding a donkey colt, a not-even-fully-grown animal. Jesus is dressed in his usual dusty robes, hems darkened with the earth of Judea, and Galilee, and wherever his travels have taken him. He is hardly the image of a king, but here he is, being received as one. Someone put their cloak on the donkey, a makeshift saddle. People are laying their cloaks on the ground for the donkey to walk upon, a mark of respect for people who are usually much better dressed that Jesus happens to be. And there is singing—it is a joyful procession, with the sound of music in the air—the psalm we have already read together this morning:
Give thanks to the Lord, for the Lord is good;
God’s mercy endures forever!
Open for me the gates of righteousness,
I will enter them and give thanks to the Lord.
This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it. ~Psalm 118:1, 19, 24
The air is festive, but also, subdued. Though the people are celebrating, Jesus himself, and probably at least some of his disciples, are still remembering the anointing, which happened only last night… the fragrance of the ointment is no doubt still on his body, perhaps his robe. Everyone heard what he had to say: Mary of Bethany was anointing him for his funeral.
At the same time, on the western edge of the city, a very different parade is entering. Pontius Pilate enters the city, riding a mighty warhorse. He is at the head of of a legion of Roman soldiers. Their armor is glinting in the sunlight. They carry implements of war. There are drums.
Jesus is coming to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, as any devout Jew within a reasonable distance does. He is coming with friends, and probably family. Though he is aware of what awaits him this week, he comes in peace.
Pilate is also coming because of the Passover, but not to celebrate it. He’s coming to manage it, to control it. Passover commemorates the liberation of the Israelites from enslavement in Egypt. There is always a strong of insurrection in the air during the Passover celebrations. The Romans are there to show the Jews that they are large and in charge. They are making it clear: pushing back at Rome would be a fool’s errand. Pilate comes ready for war, if that’s what it takes to keep everyone in line.
So, how are the disciples doing? I guess a good question would be, how would we be doing, if someone we loved and revered seemed to be walking very deliberately toward a situation that would bring about their death? By this time, Jesus has told his inner circle at least three times what was going to happen: that he would go to Jerusalem, and would be handed over to gentiles, who would torture him, and kill him. And then, he told them, God would raise him from the dead. Jesus used the term, “Son of Man” for himself in these conversations. It seems to have been a somewhat darkly humorous choice. For us it sounds all Bible-y, and is hard to grasp. But Jesus’ friends heard it for what it was: a phrase that meant, the Mortal One. In these predictions, Jesus is driving home the point that, yes, he can die—and he will. He’s the Mortal One. (Just like everyone else.)
It seems possible—even likely—that that same inner circle would be feeling deep anxiety here, maybe even some anticipatory grief, grief in advance of a death. Perhaps some of you have experienced this, as you watched a loved one move into the shadows of illness or dementia: a sense that you had already lost this person, that they were beyond your reach, even as they were still physically present.
Did the disciples feel something like this? And did Jesus himself feel something like this? Across the four different gospels, Jesus approaches his death with varying degrees of fear and anxiety. Jesus’ fear is most visible in the oldest gospel, the gospel according to Mark. The Jesus of the gospel according to John, the latest gospel to be written, seems almost impervious to fear.
Our passage from Paul’s letter to the Philippians gives us some insight into how Paul understood Jesus’ approach to his own death. He frames it—as he does much of this letter—in terms of love, using it as a teaching tool for the congregation at Philippi.
He begins with an appeal to his people. If, in looking at the life of Jesus, you find any comfort there, if you see clearly how fully it is shaped by love, try that on for yourselves. Be of the same mind. Carry in your hearts the same love. “Let the same mind be among you that was in Christ Jesus,” he says.
In most of our Bibles, the opening portion of chapter 2 is in paragraph form. But then, suddenly, it is in poetic form, it’s laid out like a psalm. That’s because scholars believe that what follows is an ancient hymn. It’s almost certainly a hymn the church at Philippi knows and loves. It may be a hymn that Paul himself wrote. He uses it to remind that congregation what the love of Jesus looks like.
Jesus shows love by emptying himself. He empties himself of the idea that, because he is one with God, that he should gain any special benefit from that. He empties himself of the possibility of taking advantage of that, or exploiting it, for instance, for his own safety. He does not grasp it. He does not hold it tightly. He lives deeply into his humanity, claiming no special treatment. And therefore, he remains radically with humanity, we who all too familiar with suffering.
Instead, he lives as a slave. He dies the death of a disobedient slave, or a traitor to the Roman Empire—the most painful and humiliating death imaginable. He humbles himself, going to his death, not as a victim, but as God’s obedient child, still living in God’s love.
Jesus empties himself of everything it means to be God—the kingdom, the power, and the glory. He walks away from any chance to rule as an earthly king. He refuses to use divine power to get himself out of harm’s way. He turns his back on glory and embraces only the logical result of a ministry that scares the daylights out of religious and political elites alike.
In naming all these things, Paul is asking the Philippians, can you do the same? Can you be a servant rather than jockeying for power? Can you be humble rather than boastful about your gifts or position? Can you be acutely aware of the needs of those around you and privilege those over the things you want?
All these things are products of the way of love that Jesus walked and modeled for us. What does it mean for us to walk this same way of love? The answer is the same—and they are questions. Can we do the same? Can we be servants to one another? Can we be as Christ to one another? Can we live do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God?
All of this is just as counter-cultural now as it was in Galilee 2000 years ago. And it is just as potent—there is nothing so potent as love. God shows us this, again and again. God tells us this, again and again. Love breaks down the walls that separate us and the chains that bind us. Love lifts us out of the prison of the self and reminds us of the beauty that service unleashes in the world and in our own lives.
For Jesus, this is the week that will bring the Passover to Jerusalem. It is also the week that will bring him to his final confrontation with the powers that fear him enough to want to kill him. Jesus will walk through this week with his humanity fully on display. He has emptied himself of everything else. He is left with only those things we share, including our frail human bodies, our experience of pain and suffering, and the love we carry in us.
It is that love that most truly erases the boundary between human and divine. It is love that most truly is a sign that we are made in God’s image. It is love that will draw us to walk together this week, as his witnesses and his disciples. We will witness his love in action. We will witness his humility. We will gather with him at the table on Thursday evening, and at the cross on Friday. In all of it, his love will be poured out, like ointment whose fragrance flows through time and space. In all of it, we will know what it is to be loved.
Thanks be to God. Amen.